


Got My Attention

by CrackingLamb



Series: One Shot Wonders, A Collection of Junkyard Dog Stories [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Attraction, F/M, Internal Monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 23:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12444417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrackingLamb/pseuds/CrackingLamb
Summary: Nora’s continuing battle with her inner ghost and her observations of Hancock in the field.





	Got My Attention

**Author's Note:**

> The hazards of the Commonwealth are nothing compared to the hazards of trying to get a pair of fools so pathetically eager for each other to admit it. 
> 
> Corresponds with ‘Chapter Four – Bemused and Beguiled’ in Junkyard Dogs

He was something to watch. Chems and a high caliber shotgun. He didn’t run into a fight, he danced. And then he’d turn those black eyes on her and she’d shiver. They promised things, those eyes.

She’d been nervous asking him to come with her. Take a walk, as he put it. She knew she was a mess, and she knew she was attracted to him the way she was to every ghoul she’d met. Well, okay, it was a bit different. She didn’t want to bounce on Wiseman like a trampoline. But she hadn’t been fully prepared for what traveling with Hancock was going to be like. She knew she liked his style, and for sure she liked his gravelly purr and wisecrack humor. She hadn’t expected his uncanny ability to walk out of a fight unscathed. She hadn’t expected him to notice how ragged she ran herself. She hadn’t expected a man who used chems like candy to be perceptive and concerned. She most definitely hadn’t expected to crave that concern, to hope it went deeper.

MacCready made her feel protective. Nick made her feel grounded and no longer alone. Deacon made her feel appreciated. Preston made her feel overwhelmed.

Hancock made her feel _alive_.

_Interesting emphasis there, my heart._

_Don’t call me that_ , she answered the voice in her head. _You don’t get to call me that when you’re dead._

 _You want him_.

She snorted to herself, thankful Hancock was out of earshot so he couldn’t see what kind of mess of a woman she was, talking to herself. Arguing with herself. And all in her head.

“Better than out loud,” she said. “Shit.”

The sound of Nate’s laughter filled her ears. At first she’d wanted to shut it off, shut it away. The world had been bent over and fucked without lube, she was alone and scared and confused. Then she saw him in her head, his wry blue eyes filling up with determination as he told her to get her ass in gear, pick up the 10mm he had taught her how to use in another life and get the fuck out of Dodge. He was her psychosis and her conscience, nonjudgmental but honest. Steady but invisible. And she was grateful.

 _Of course I want him_ , she sighed to herself.

Hancock looked at the world, shouted, “Fuck you!” and did it with a smile and a huff of Jet. She envied him. She wanted to be like him, effortlessly confident and not afraid of anything.

 _He’s afraid of what he feels for you_ , Nate’s ghost echoed in the abyss of her head.

_How do you know that?_

_Look at how he slinks away without touching you, how he looks at you when he thinks you aren’t watching. You think you haven’t settled on that man’s bones like a curse?_

_Am I so bad then?_

_He thinks he needs to change to get in your good graces._

_But he doesn’t_ , she protested to Nate. Um, to herself. Um…whatever the fuck.

_He doesn’t know that, Nora. You need to tell him it’s okay. You’ll take him the way he is._

_How?_

Nate was silent. Nora wasn’t in the habit of throwing herself at a man. She wasn’t usually the pursuer. But the world had ended, right? That meant traditional roles had ended too.

She didn’t care about his chem habit, as long as it didn’t put her in danger. Selfish thought, she knew, but hey, it was a dog eat dog world. Sometimes it was a _people_ eat _people_ world. She couldn’t afford the luxury of worrying over someone else’s back when she had to protect her own. She ran around doing all these things for others, never getting a moment’s peace – not that she wanted it since a moment’s peace inevitably meant memories – she’d earned the right to some selfishness, right?

Maybe she was a tiny bit jealous that he could wash away his thoughts with Mentats and Jet and Med-X like he was wiping down a slate. She had no such recourse. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the Vault, dripping with melting ice. She saw Nate, slumped over with the hole blown in his temple. She saw that man, scarred, balding, cold. She heard Shaun wailing, heard herself being called a backup. And if that wasn’t bad enough, when she opened her eyes she saw the ruins of her home, her city. Her world. She hoofed it on foot, every inch, every mile. Desolation and disrepair, 210 years of filth and chaos and _goddamned_ rads. She struggled to find her place in it, even as she worked to recreate the world in her mind’s image.

Mac hadn’t gotten it. He was born to this world, knew it like the back of his hand. She loved the little scrapper, but he couldn’t fill the void. Nick knew what it was like to see Boston in shambles when before it had been beautiful, but he hadn’t been from around here to begin with, well, his base personality hadn’t. It didn’t have the same impact. She hadn’t told Deacon too much of her past. She knew enough to keep things to herself with that pathological liar. And Preston was too caught up in his own worries to pay attention to hers.

And it wasn’t like Hancock knew either. He was young, post-war. But he was unapologetic about getting what he wanted, he had zest and determination that the Commonwealth was his bitch and nothing and no one would take that away from him. She wanted that.

 _That’s an unhealthy reason to get naked with a man_ , Nate’s ghost was back.

 _Are there any healthy reasons to these days?_ she shot back. _Maybe some of his nerve would rub off on me, and even if it doesn’t, I hear he’s a good time anyway. Worth it just for that._

 _You aren’t made that way, Nora_ , Nate said in her head, sounding mournful. Y _ou’d have to love him, just a little, to let it go that way._

_What’s wrong with that?_

What _was_ wrong with that? Hancock represented the epitome of survival to her. She admired him for it. She liked his cocky attitude. She liked his jokes and his offhand observations. She liked how his eyes got soft and round when he didn’t think she was looking. She liked his quirky half grin when he was high. She liked it better when she saw it and knew he wasn’t high. She liked his endless flirting.

Metal flashed, a knife twirled end over end as he stood by, waiting for her to finish up whatever it was she was doing. Oh, right. Scavving. She really liked watching his hands on that knife. Sure, confident and dangerous. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that she was rapidly becoming obsessed with wanting to know how they felt on her skin.

“I’m ready,” she called. He tucked the knife away and sauntered through the ankle deep water of Forest Grove Marsh to her side, totally unconcerned with what the muck was doing to his boots.

“Then let’s hit the road.”

He followed her as they went from place to place. Past Vault 81 – ooh, that place just burned her up with their prejudice – and up the tracks to Oberland Station and beyond. He didn’t complain about her constant side trips, or her endless scavving. Mac had driven her crazy with that shit.

_Like, really dude? If you don’t want to help then why are you here?_

She sighed. She couldn’t stay mad at MacCready. He was a good kid, just trying to do the best he could. He’d taught her a lot about surviving in the wasteland, but he had his own stuff to deal with. He couldn’t help her with hers.

“You wanna stop soon? I can see well in the dark, but I’m not sure about you,” Hancock broke into her thoughts. It was smoothly done, but she could hear it in his voice. He wanted her to stop her ceaseless marching and get some damned rest. Or maybe he needed some. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t slept in three days.

They walked all day, fighting off the odds and ends that they always found – like now, surrounded by dead molerats – and then he’d stay up all night to keep watch to boot. It was an unfair division of labor, but he always told her to sleep, that he didn’t mind. He was adamant about it, in fact. She knew he wasn’t bored; she’d seen him with a book in his lap by the firelight once when she’d woken from her muddled dreams to find it was still too dark to travel onwards. She’d heard him sneaking back into whatever makeshift camp they’d made too. He never went far, but he did it every night. She had some suspicions about that…

“Yeah, we probably should find somewhere to make camp.” Jalbert Brothers was cleared of molerats but she would need a hazmat suit to scav anything useful. Time to move on. She looked at her Pip-Boy. Rocky Narrows Park wasn’t too far away. She headed in that direction.

When they reached it an ominous buzzing had her lifting her 10mm from its holster. She saw Hancock’s shotgun slip into his hands out of the corner of her eye, even though he wasn’t anywhere near her position.

 _Yeah, I guess he does always watch me_.

Ugh, bloatflies. She made short work of them, hacking up the bodies to get to the meat. Gross. But nutritious. She repressed her shudders of distaste and went to see where Hancock had gotten himself to. He stood in the center of the park, looking at the dismal play area. Her heart panged suddenly. _Oh, Nate, Shaun could have played here once_ …

“Those are some lame torture devices,” he joked, as she had expected. He always had something to say whenever they went somewhere.

“It’s a playground, you dolt,” she said back, just as he probably expected her to, since she always did. But the lump in her throat wouldn’t go away. He glanced at her sidelong and probably caught a glimpse of her face before she could hide it, but he didn’t say anything, just stood by quietly. She ended up being the one to walk away.

She made a fire, cooked dinner, made sure he ate his fair share of it too, dammit. And they talked.

She might deliberately keep herself on the run until she was on fumes and she collapsed from sheer exhaustion, but she had to admit, quiet nights around a fire with Hancock were swiftly becoming one of her new favorite things. They talked about all sorts of things – life, Mac, Hancock’s clothes, her nail polish for God’s sake, her constant exploits on behalf of Preston and the Minutemen. And all of it interspersed with his brand of easy flirting mixed with genuine interest. It was so familiar and cozy that she stripped down to change her clothes right in front of him, no warning, no shame. And he’d reacted.

“I’ll just admire the view,” he purred, with that delicious growl she loved to hear. It was so like yet unlike other ghouls’ voices. A product more of his lifestyle than his condition.

 _Good, he’s not impervious. And I think I’m right about what he goes and does at night. If only I felt as comfortable about taking care of it like that_.

But she didn’t want to take care of it herself. She wanted him to take care of it.

 _Drastic measures need to be taken_ , she thought.

 _What are you gonna do, walk around naked until he catches on?_ Nate whispered in her head. He’d been silent for hours. The stretches of peace from her husband’s ghost were growing longer, she noticed. Her inner voice was becoming just her again. She wasn’t sure if she was happy or not about that.

 _It’s tempting_ , she thought back to Nate’s ghost.

_You could just say something._

_Much less fun. Besides, I’ve tried that and he always changes the subject._

_You miss fun_ , Nate whispered, almost completely faded away.

 _I do. I miss fun. Hancock is fun_.

“I’m tired,” she announced with a yawn. As usual, Hancock offered to keep watch. She mentally shook her head and took off the jeans she’d just put on, stripped off the flannel she’d thrown over her shoulders to keep the chill off her arms and watched his eyes follow her every movement through her lashes. If the air hadn’t been so thick with a sort of anticipatory longing she would have laughed. Instead, she made a show of turning her back and getting into her sleeping bag.

She let her breathing settle, let him think she was asleep and sure enough, she heard him leave. He didn’t go far, he never did. Never far enough that if she’d shouted he couldn’t come running. She almost got up to call him on it, but then she heard her own name fall from his mouth on a groan. Heat flooded her and she couldn’t move.

Yes, drastic measures were necessary. The next time she heard her name like that, she wanted it to be in her ear, damn it all.

 _Maybe I will walk around naked. Or something_.


End file.
